


Part of Your World

by SassyStarboard



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski Are Siblings, Alternate Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Alternate Universe - The Little Mermaid Fusion, Derek Hale's Past Consent Issues with Kate Argent, F/M, Little Mermaid Elements, M/M, Manipulative Relationship, Mentioned Danny Mahealani, Mentioned Jackson Whittemore, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Sheriff Stilinski is Not Stiles Stilinski's Parent, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Has a Crush on Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is an Argent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:27:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22065490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SassyStarboard/pseuds/SassyStarboard
Summary: The Little Mermaid, but make it Sterek(with a few little changes, of course)
Relationships: Allison Argent & Lydia Martin, Allison Argent & Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	1. Chapter 1

“Stiles, come back!”

Scott swam after his best friend, trying in vain to save him from an early death.

“They’re exploding things, Scotty! How can you not want to watch?”

“Because I care about you and my entire job-slash-life depends on you not dying! Please come back!” Scott pleaded. 

Stiles turned and grinned at him, letting his momentum carry his body backwards as he drifted through the water. They were much closer to the surface now; the shining sunlight filtered in under the waves like relaxed, distorted gold. The water was a little rough today but nothing an experienced merman couldn’t handle.

“They only do this once a year, Scott! I can’t miss it! You’re my best friend, buddy. I want you to see it with me!” Stiles argued. He smiled excitedly, his dark hair twisting and curling in the churning water as it floated around his head. Scott sighed.

“You’re gonna do it no matter what I say, aren’t you?” 

Stiles winked, then snapped the end of his tail and shot up to the surface. Scott whined and followed him. 

Not for the first time, Scott thought wistfully about how easy his life would be if he wasn’t in charge of Stiles. Maybe in his next life he’d get lucky and he’d be born as a starfish instead of the advisor to an annoyingly free-spirited prince. Which, admittedly, would be pretty freaking boring. Stiles had the energy of a hyperactive guppy but Scott wouldn’t trade him for anything. Scott had grown up with Stiles his entire life. It was like making a living out of having a best friend.

Scott’s mom was the Royal Nurse and Prince Mieczyslaw had spent nearly all of his childhood in and out of the castle infirmary. Not merely for sheer clumsiness, but for the fact that he was an avid troublemaker who had existed his entire life as a restless ball of chaos. How Stiles could possibly be related to Allison—gorgeous, graceful, dreamy Allison—Scott had no idea. Still, Stiles’ recklessness was the reason he and Stiles were best friends so he wasn’t going to look a gift seahorse in the mouth. It had even gotten him a job—he’d spent so much time around Stiles that King Christopher had upgraded him to a position on the castle staff after Stiles’ _personality_ had driven away his last three advisors. Bodyguards. Gentleman-in-waiting. Whatever you called it, Stiles had managed to get rid of them all. It had taken years for Chris to finally figure out a way to hire someone Stiles wouldn’t want to get rid of. _You never leave his side, you might as well get paid for it._

Scott usually forgot it was his actual job now unless something serious happened. Something like Stiles practically begging to be harpooned by a human naval ship, for instance. 

Scott emerged from the water to find Stiles stationed behind a large rock, his wet curls dripping into his eyes as he gazed longingly at the deck of the ship. A human ship that was way farther from shore than any of the other ones had ever been. They were still in sight of the shoreline—much to close for the safety of merpeople—but royal ships rarely ventured past the edge of the marina anymore. It was almost unheard of. 

Stiles’ bright eyes followed the colorful explosions as they were shot off from the large canons on the main deck of the royal ship. He stared happily at the foreign colors in the sky, resting his head on his arms. Scott swam up to him, elbowing him to get him to move over.

“Tell me this isn’t cool.” Stiles sighed.

Scott pursed his lips. If he didn’t get Stiles away from here, Stiles’ dad would _murder_ him. The waves had seemed fine underwater, but up here Scott could see the sky. The cloudy, scary, dark-in-the-middle-of-the-afternoon sky. A storm was coming—a big one. Waves rolled, crashing against the other rocks and spraying their faces with saltwater. Scott felt the cold wind stinging his skin and he let himself sink back into the ocean until only his head poked out above the surface. He grabbed onto Stiles’ rock as another explosion sparkled over their heads.

Stiles was right. It _was_ cool. They could hang out for a few minutes, right?

“Yeah.” Scott grinned.

“We should’ve brought Ally.” Stiles said absently. “She’d like the colors...it could be like a date.”

Scott felt his face grow warm. When he turned to look at Stiles, there was a knowing smirk on the prince’s face. Man, did Scott regret telling Stiles about his crush. Stiles had definitely already figured it out by then, but it didn’t feel any less embarrassing when Stiles teased him about it. If Scott was being honest, Stiles had been super supportive about helping the two of them send messages to each other but right now Scott didn’t want to hear his teasing. It was a reminder.

“You know I can’t, Stiles.” He said sadly. “Not for real. I can’t take her to see this kind of stuff. Your dad will kill me if he finds out I’m seeing her, I don’t think taking her to watch human color explosions is gonna help my case.”

“But you guys are so cute!” Stiles whined. “Insanely disgustingly cute and your messages are super gross cause you’re like my brother and Ally’s my twin, but why not? Scotty, why not?”

“I’m not royalty, Stiles.” Scott managed. “I’m not like you guys.”

“So? Lydia was Ally’s lady-in-waiting until she met Jackson! Now she’s a duchess! Why can’t you be a duke? We’d be brothers! Dude, please—“

“Wouldn’t marrying Allison make me a prince?” Scott frowned. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“No. _I’m_ the Prince. _Duh_ . Princes have royal blood. You’re _marrying_ into being an Argent. That makes you a duke. Otherwise Lyds would be a princess and not a duchess.” Stiles told him primly. Then he returned to his begging, clasping his hands together. “Please Scotty, _please_.”

“Your dad doesn’t like me.”

“He loves you!” Stiles protested.

“He wouldn’t love me as Allison’s boyfriend.” Scott glumly looked down at an interesting groove in their rock. So very interesting.

“Yes he would!” Stiles insisted. “It doesn’t matter that you’re not royal, you’re just my brother who’s like, also in charge of making sure I don’t die! And as my brother, I am begging you to please _please_ court my sister.”

“The way you said that was uncomfortably gross and your dad literally has the power to execute me.”

Stiles scoffed. “Dude, you are _seriously_ overestimating his level of bloodlust. Dad would never—“

Stiles stopped, frozen. The humans on the ship had lined up along the stairs. Their large shiny instruments were making loud brassy noises, playing out a grand fanfare. The entrance fanfare for the human prince. Stiles‘ face split into a blinding grin. Scott frowned, confused.

“Why are they—“

“Shut up!” Stiles grabbed Scott’s face and wrapped his hand around Scott’s mouth, pulling his best friend back out of the water. Stiles stared dreamily at the deck as the human prince made his way down the stairs.

 _Mystery Prince_.

Mystery Prince was tall, dark, and utterly gorgeous. The bright colors erupting across the sky highlighted his face beautifully. Even at his distance, Stiles could make out the dark scruff on the prince's jawline and his handsome, smiling eyes. He was a muscular, sexy dream. Mystery Prince was also a bit of a fixer upper but Stiles could totally overlook the whole _legs_ thing. With a face like that, Stiles could forgive murder.

Stiles let go off Scott and swooned theatrically onto the rock before turning back around to ogle the prince. Scott looked between Stiles and the ship, his eyes wide with panic.

“Oh no.” Scott groaned.

“ _Oh yes_.” Stiles sighed, stars glittering in his eyes.

Stiles had discovered Mystery Prince last year and had been pining hopelessly ever since. After watching the humans celebrate and determining they were honoring the prince’s birthday, Stiles had marked the day on his calendar and not-so-patiently waited an entire year to be able to see the prince again. Because despite his constant efforts, Stiles unfortunately had not been able to break into the castle.

After the first party, Stiles had gone swimming near the human castle for weeks trying to catch even a tiny little glimpse, but the massive wall protecting the castle had blocked all of Stiles’ safe access points and he had been forced to resign himself to waiting. Stiles might be a little adventurous and impulsive, but he was far from being an idiot. He knew what would happen to him if he got caught. So Stiles had suffered for a whole, agonizing year. He’d been bouncing off the walls for weeks now, desperately waiting for the explosions to signal the arrival of the birthday ship. The birthday ship was the only royal ship that got far enough out to allow Stiles to swim near it without drawing attention. This one ship was all Stiles was going to get.

Now Mystery Prince was right in front of him, looking ten times as beautiful as when Stiles had first seen him. It was utterly magical and Stiles was _dying_ . Absence truly did make the heart grow fonder. Stiles was finally getting a second chance to drool over the prince and _oh_ _Poseidon_ , the wait had been worth it. Sure, the weather wasn’t perfect, but if Stiles didn’t think about it he could ignore how much the wind was picking up and how loud the waves were getting. _Mystery Prince_. And to think the first time he’d truly ventured to the surface had been for some stupid explosions.

“Mystery Prince.” Stiles whispered, his eyes sparkling.

Scott was not happy.

“Dude! No! Gross! Stiles, that’s even worse than me and Allison—he’s _human_ ! I thought you were dragging me up here to watch explosions! This is way worse! If anyone finds out I let you come up here for _this_ , I’ll get—I-I’m gonna get filleted! Stiles, we _have_ to go.”

“No.” Stiles growled, staring intensely at the deck. “No, we can’t. We can’t go home. I waited a whole year for this, I’m not going home until they return to shore.”

“Stiles—“

“No!” Stiles told him. “Scott, please. Please just let me have this. Look, I know it’s a huge dick move but I’m pulling the _Future-Leader-of-Atlantica_ card on this if I have to. I swear you can totally blame the whole thing on me if shit goes down, just _please_.”

Stiles’ eyes were shining as he watched Mystery Prince walk around the deck greeting his guests. He was polite, he stopped to talk with people, he smiled, he listened to his subjects, he was _absolutely wonderful_. 

Scott watched Stiles stare at his prince and sighed. 

“Fine. We can wait until the explosions stop. You might get a few more minutes, if that, but then we _have_ to go. The weather’s getting bad, Stiles. We can’t risk staying here for much longer.”

“Because we can totally drown.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Storms are only dangerous if you’re near a giant human ship—which, granted, we are—or if you’re close enough to land to get beached.”

“Which we are.” Scott echoed. “These royal ships never come out onto real open water anymore. They probably only went out this far so they didn’t hit anyone with those explosions. What’s gonna happen when the storm gets worse, huh?”

Stiles’ face went pale. “Humans can swim even though they don’t have tails right?”

“I think so, but—“

“Thank gods. Oh wait—oh Scott, look at him. Look at the prince, Scott. Tell me he isn’t beautiful.”

“You don’t even know him.” Scott tried. It was half-hearted. If Stiles wanted to stay this badly, there was nothing Scott could do. Lovesick Stiles was an immovable force. Though hopefully he’d snap out of it before the weather got too strong for them to get back. It was already to a level where Scott was starting to feel nervous and he didn’t want anything to happen to himself or Stiles.

“How did you feel the first time you saw Allison?” Stiles countered. “Like, _really_ saw Allison?”

Scott hesitated, torn. He knew the answer, of course. When they were little, he’d found Allison hiding out in the palace courtyard. He’d gotten to watch her just be _Allison —_to see her smiling and laughing along with the servants' children as they all swam around the sea grass together. She hadn’t seemed to care that she was a princess at all. She had just wanted to make the other children happy. Allison was beautiful and kind, and in that moment Scott had known he’d never want to look at anything else. 

The castle, however, was a safe and human-free environment. A storm-free environment. As much as it would hurt the both of them, it was better for Stiles to get his heart broken now than for him to wind up as the Prince’s main course at the next party or get blown all the way to Corona by the storm. They needed to go home. Now. 

The wind picked up, pushing life into the sails. Lighting flashed in the distance, the corresponding thunder echoing across the water. 

Stiles was oblivious and kept staring dreamily at the Prince. He never wanted to look at anything else ever again. The Prince had only come out this far once before and for all Stiles knew, this was his last chance. He had to get in all the staring he could. 

“Derek!”

A voice came from the center of the deck. There was a human with blond hair looking straight at the prince. The prince turned as the name was called and left to follow the other man, disappearing from the railing. Stiles beamed, his eyes sparkling. _Derek._ Oh, if that wasn’t the most gorgeous name Stiles had ever heard. Stiles wanted to sing songs about him, he wanted to shout the prince’s name from the palace towers. _Derek._

“Dude, come on!” Scott urged him.

_Derek._

“Stiles, we have to—”

_C r a s h_

An enormous wave slammed into their rock, forcefully throwing the two mermen back into the water. 

Stiles’ eyes burned as they readjusted to the saltwater, his lungs straining to accommodate the sudden brutal change. Stiles wheezed, coughing as the air bubbles burst out of his mouth. Flailing to get his bearings, Stiles righted himself and searched the area for Scott. Only to find nothing. Stiles stuck his head back above the surface, frantically scanning the waves. Scott was nowhere in sight. Oh, this was bad. This was incredibly, terrifyingly bad.

Much much worse was the ship.

The royal ship was rolling and pitching, bouncing up and down through the waves. The explosions had stopped. The pretty lights were gone. In their place, Stiles heard screaming and shouting on the deck. He saw the humans running around in alarm. He heard the blond man from earlier frantically yelling for Derek.

In less than five minutes—five minutes Stiles had spent daydreaming about Derek—the storm had doubled in intensity, as if by magic. Stiles hadn’t seen anything this bad in nearly a decade. His beautiful ocean had warped into a life-threatening hurricane. 

Waves roared and crashed, burying Stiles’ rock and forcing the ship further out to sea, further away from safety. The dark sky cracked, groaning with the weight of the storm. Lightning flashed, snapping across the clouds.

“Scott!” Stiles yelled. “Scott! Scott, where are you?”

“Here!”

Stiles whirled around. Twenty yards away, Stiles barely caught sight of Scott’s distressed expression and waving arms before his best friend disappeared again, forced beneath the surface by a monstrous swell of black seawater. _Scott was okay._ He was probably freaking out just like Stiles was, but he was okay. Stiles quickly headed in Scott’s direction, swimming and searching.

A deafening _c r a c k_ echoed in Stiles’ ears. Panicked gripped him as he twisted back to look at the ship. 

The mast was falling. Lightning had flared down and struck the sails, the strike destroying the integrity of the ship. Stiles watched in horror as flames leapt across the canvas, devouring the masts before progressing downward, swallowing the deck. The blond man from earlier shouted something, directing panicked passengers to a series of stacked, smaller boats attached to the rail of the ship. The ropes securing them were cut loose as the boats dropped into the water. Derek and his friend climbed into the last boat, sawing their ropes and dropping into the ocean.

Fiery debris from the burning ship collapsed into the water, the largest pieces rippling through nearby waves as they fell, causing the waves to nearly double in size. 

Stiles dove back under, desperately trying to catch sight of Scott. Above him, seismic level waves engulfed the lifeboats, tossing defenseless passengers into the treacherous water as the ship crashed down around them. Stiles lunged out of the way, dodging fiery wreckage as he scoured the water for Scott. He swam across a broad reef, maneuvering quickly around the scared fish and floating driftwood. _Scott. Scott. Scott._

Stiles stopped immediately when he saw it, paralyzed with fear. 

There was a limp figure in the water drifting down towards the ocean floor.

 _Scott_.

Stiles surged forward, dodging the wreckage and ardently working against the currents. 

_“Stiles!”_

Stiles turned. Scott was back across the other side of the reef and gesturing frantically at him. _Scott was okay._ But Scott being okay meant someone _else_ was in trouble and no other merpeople had been anywhere near them. 

One of the humans was drowning. Stiles motioned for Scott to come towards him then kept going, swimming closer to the figure.

An explosion wracked across the surface of the ocean, lighting up the water with a sea-shattering _b o o m_ and shedding light on the listless figure.

It was the prince.

The unconscious human prince who couldn’t breathe underwater.

Instinctively, Stiles rushed over to him. _Save Derek. Save Derek_ . He wrapped his arms around Derek and dragged him up, pulling the both of them towards the surface. Around them, the ocean roared and burned with fury, but they were so close to the open air that they had to make it. They _had_ to. _Almost there. Almost there._

Stiles gave a final snap of his fins and they shot above the water. He broke through the surface, hauling Derek’s arm around his shoulder as he swam to help Derek breathe. Hopefully. Stiles tightened his grip and swam in the direction of the beach, determinedly dragging Derek towards the sand.

Around them, the ocean was calming. As if the storm had a mind of its own and it’s work had been finished. As if it was satisfied that the royal ship was now floating in shambles through the water. Using the water to his advantage, Stiles watched a nearby wave, swimming him and Derek over at just the right time and using the crest to ride the both of them onto the shore. 

Releasing Derek, Stiles collapsed onto the sand, coughing. After a moment of recovery, he remembered what was happening and turned to the prince, panicked. 

Derek had sea foam stuck to his eyelashes. Stiles whined, dragging his hands over Derek as he tried to remember where human hearts were located, rambling to himself as he searched for a pulse.

“Oh no, are you dead? You’re not dead. Please, please don’t be dead. Wait, no.” Stiles paused, his hand pressed against Derek’s chest as it rose and fell. “No, you’re breathing. Yes! Okay, you’re breathing. Breathing is good. Breathing is fun. Okay. Oh, wow. Oh, you’re really gorgeous up close. Hi Derek. Please keep breathing, Derek. I believe in you. Come on. Please keep being alive.” 

Stiles sighed, calming down a little. He gently brushed the hair away from Derek’s face. It was amazing seeing Derek up close. Admittedly, Stiles had imagined their first meeting going far differently—he’d hoped both of them would be conscious, for one—but clearly this was the best he was going to get. Stiles put his head on Derek’s chest, listening for the heartbeat again just to make sure. Human hearts were in the same place as merpeople hearts, right? Stiles listened intently. Utter relief washed over him as Derek’s heartbeat pulsed in his ears. _Oh, thank Poseidon._

Stiles checked the prince over for other injuries, singing softly to himself as he worked—a nervous habit he’d been told came from his mother. It was an old song, one about a mermaid who’d fallen in love with a human. It was glaringly appropriate.

Finding nothing besides his shredded clothes and a few spare scratches—probably a concussion too but Stiles didn’t know how to check for that in humans—Stiles sighed with relief, laying back on his arms. 

Fully aware he was being seriously creepy, Stiles reached back over and ran his hand over Derek’s chest, singing to himself. _Derek_. It was the best name Stiles had ever heard.

Derek stirred, a dazed groan falling from his lips. Stiles’ heart swelled. It was adorable and Stiles was in love.

“Derek!”

A voice called out from across the beach, worried and scared. Derek’s eyes drifted open, awareness beginning to brighten his features. In the distance, Derek’s name was repeated again. Louder. Closer. 

Stiles snapped out of it and shot back into the water, diving under the waves. He swam a good distance away and over to a large outcropping of rocks relatively near the shore. Stiles tried to listen for the human, but he couldn’t hear anything from the surface while he was underwater. Cautiously, Stiles inched his head out of the water, shielding himself with the boulder.

Derek’s friend had reached him and was helping him to a stand. Stiles smiled. He watched Derek’s friend lead him away, his heart begging him to chase after Derek and never let him go—a devastatingly impossible feat. Stiles sniffed. It would be okay. Derek would be okay. Stiles had rescued him. Derek was safe. 

Scott was safe too.

“Your dad isn’t gonna hear shit about this, right?”

Stiles tore his eyes away from Derek’s retreating form. Scott was leaning against a nearby rock, breathless. “Cause, you know, we don’t tell him then I stay in one piece and you stay in one piece and—ow!”

A seagull dived, valiantly trying to nest in Scott’s hair. He smacked it and it flew away, disgruntled. Scott pouted. Stiles gave a wheezing laugh, sliding off of his rock and into the water. Scott swam over, hitting him with his tail.

“You really scared me, dude.” He said. “Don’t disappear like that. I thought maybe you got hurt.”

Stiles frowned. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking, I just...I-I wanted...”

“Look, I know.” Scott elbowed him into the side. “I get it now. Just don’t be stupid anymore. Try to actually listen to me next time, deal?”

Stiles grinned. “Deal.”

“So are you giving up on him?” Scott asked hopefully. Stiles shook his head. 

“On Derek? Never.”

“He’s human, Stiles.” Scott reminded him. “Nothing can happen between you guys. I don’t want you to get your heart set on something you can’t have.”

“Oh, this is definitely something.” Stiles cast a final longing look at the beach. Scott sighed, exasperated.

“I’m not gonna like where this gets us, am I?” 

Stiles grinned.

“Just wait and see, Scotty. This is the start of something, I can feel it. I don’t know when or how or whatever. But something’s starting. You’ll see.”

“.....yeah, right.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had some trouble deciding what POV I wanted this chapter to be in, but Derek's coming soon! Enjoy!!

It was late when Scott and Stiles returned to the palace. So late, in fact, they had assumed everyone would be sleeping and had chosen to hang out in the throne room to avoid waking up Allison. Stiles and his sister might have moved out of their shared room, but Allison was still right next door and she constantly complained about how loud Stiles was. Especially when he was with Scott. Not wanting to incur the wrath of the princess by waking her from her beauty sleep, the throne room was the safer choice.

Unfortunately, while Allison had gone to sleep hours ago, the King had been up waiting for them.

Scott and Stiles opened the door to find Stiles’ dad sitting on his throne, his eyes somehow tired and furious at the same time. Mostly furious. They halted immediately, petrified—nothing was scarier than an angry parent. Silently, the King motioned for them to come closer. They obeyed, pausing at the foot of the throne. He considered them, his eyes frighteningly calculating. Finally, he spoke.

“Where the hell have you been?” Chris demanded. Scott and Stiles shrank. Despite the even volume, it was still the voice of a king—commanding and deadly serious. 

“Swimming?” Stiles said weakly. Chris scowled.

“ _Swimming_ .” He repeated, anger bleeding into his tone. “I haven’t heard a single word from you two all day then you get back at this hour and tell me you were _swimming_ ? There has been a storm raging for hours now. Do not take this lightly when I say the two of you could have _died_ . Melissa and I have been worried sick. Don’t you have any regard for your safety? _Scott’s_ safety? It’s dangerous out there in weather like that, Stiles! How could you possibly think something like this was okay?”

Stiles, as he always did when facing his father's fury, panicked. “But we were just—”

“No one knew where you were. No one. I’m going to ask you one more time. What were you doing?” Chris ordered. Stiles opened his mouth again but his dad cut him off before he started. “You are going to tell me the truth right now or not even _Poseidon_ will be able to help you.”

Chris waited expectantly, his tense shoulders tightening as his hands gripped the arms of his throne. Desperate to fill the deafening silence, Scott and Stiles both started talking at once, rushing out words at a rapid fire pace without stopping to take a breath.

“Totally my fault, I swear. I basically dragged him out there—”

“We didn’t mean to be out in that weather, I promise, I just didn’t—”

“There was a shipwreck, Dad! A big-a _huge_ shipwreck—”

“We just saw it from a distance but we were over by these rocks—”

“Huge rocks, Dad. Huge!”

“Yeah, and-and there was this stupid seagull that totally—”

The King held up his hand. Their mouths closed immediately. Stiles shot a pointed glare at Scott, whose breath hitched as he realized his mistake. _Oh no._

“Seagull?” Chris asked. The word was disturbingly calm. Scott looked at Stiles, who shook his head frantically. Chris motioned for Scott to come closer. Scott shot another terrified look at his best friend as he inched forward.

“Don’t look at him, Scott, look at me.” Chris ordered. “I’m merely curious, that’s all. Why, I’ve never seen a seagull this far down below the waves. Please, tell me more.” Scott’s eyes went wide.

“Oh. No. No, I-I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I, um, misspoke?” Scott forced out. “In fact...what’s a seagull?” 

Scott glanced eagerly at Stiles for approval. Stiles had his head in his hands. The prince loved his best friend to death but sweet, kind-hearted Scott was a wretched liar. Playing dumb was Scott's go-to move, and even on a good day it only had a success rate of about thirty percent. Really, the fault didn’t belong to anyone but Stiles—he should have had the foresight to brief Scott for questioning. Now they were doomed.

“Scott, if your loyalty to Stiles interferes with your duty to protect him, then you no longer have a place here.” Chris warned. “I won’t ask you again.” Scott’s shoulders sank.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty. I tried.” He caved, his voice quiet and sincerely apologetic. “I tried really, really hard, sir, but—”

“Don’t get mad at him, it was all my fault.” Stiles cut him off. His fingers twisted in anticipation, twitching as he planned his protest. He wasn’t truly expecting the worst, but if his dad was about to fire Scott, he’d be in for one hell of a revolt. Stiles tensed, mentally preparing himself. The king pursed his lips.

“When will you grow out of this age where you need constant supervision?” He said, speaking more to himself than to Stiles. There was a pause, then he sighed. “Scott, you’re dismissed.”

“I—” Scott looked helplessly over at Stiles. Stiles shook his head, motioning for him to go. _Save yourself._ Scott’s shoulders slumped. He hesitated, but reluctantly swam out of the throne room, leaving Stiles alone with his father. Stiles turned to his dad, anxious and pleading. 

“Dad, please don’t take it out on Scott. Please.” Stiles begged. “It was entirely my fault and I know you’re the king but you’re not Scott’s dad so you kind of—you can’t ground him, you can’t, and I-I’ll never forgive you if you fire him. Uh huh. Zero forgiveness. None. Not when it wasn’t even his fault, cause it was all me. I dragged him up there, I swear, and if—if you get rid of Scott then I’m going on a hunger strike because that’s totally unfair to him and you just—you can’t.”

His dad looked at him intently, studying him. Stiles’ brain was racing as he tried to get inside his dad’s head. His dad looked old and tired, which didn’t make Stiles feel any better about the worry he’d clearly caused. If anything he felt much worse, but some of his stress twisted into annoyance when he realized—not only was Allison sound asleep and seemingly indifferent to the disappearance of both her twin _and_ her not-so-secret boyfriend, but she was also the reason they’d been caught. _Allison_ . Oh, Stiles was _so_ remembering this the next time she came around begging him to play sappy message tag for her and Scott. Finally, breaking the most uncomfortable silence of Stiles’ entire life, the King spoke.

“You went up to the surface again.” He said. It wasn’t a question.

“Nothing happened!” Stiles lied. What choice did he have? Stiles shuddered to think what would happen if his father found out about Derek. Hunky human royalty Derek. Gods below, Stiles would be obliterated before you could say _sea foam_. He bit the inside of his cheek, bracing himself for the inevitable lecture.

“I have told you countless times why you are forbidden to go up to the surface yet you continue to deliberately disobey me.” Chris began. 

“Is there also a way to do that non-deliberately?” Stiles asked meekly. “Cause I feel like I might’ve—”

“Quiet!” His father demanded, his voice echoing through the throne room. Stiles shrank. Seeing Stiles’ face, the King’s fury seemed to drain into frustration as he sighed deeply, leaning back in his throne.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” He muttered.

“Dad, I’m sorry. I just forgot.” Stiles managed. “I had to—”

“You _had_ to? That’s what you’re telling me? You had to endanger your life? You had to endanger Scott? You had to put the livelihood of our entire kingdom in jeopardy?”

“No, I just—”

“Your behavior was careless, reckless, and completely out of line. You could have died—both of you—how can you not understand that? What if one of those savages had seen you? Humans are incredibly dangerous, Stiles! How many times do I have to go over this before something sinks in? Do you think I want to see my only son caught in a fisher's net? Or speared by a harpoon? How can I expect you to run this kingdom in a few years time when you continue to act so childishly? You are eighteen years old and I expect you to act like it. Do you understand me?”

Stiles nodded, staring down at the floor as he forced himself to swallow his tears. His dad was already furious with him; he would get quiet and sad if Stiles started crying. Stiles hated it when his dad got upset with himself because of him. It always felt horrible, and it was a dismal reminder of how bad Stiles was at controlling his emotions. Call it a hunch, but he had a pretty good feeling the citizens of Atlantica didn’t want a miserable wailing walrus for a future king. 

“Yes.” Stiles said quietly. “Yes, sir. I understand. I won’t do it again. I promise.”

Derek was probably terrified of the water now anyways. Humans tended to work like that. Stiles had a terrible feeling he’d missed his only shot. All because some stupid random human had freaked him out. Of course, it was easier to blame his loss on that instead of trying to rationalize. To admit he would’ve never been able to be with a human anyways. His painful, despondent, lovesick crush meant nothing. 

The King seemed taken aback for a moment, obviously thrown by how quickly his son had accepted defeat.

“Good.” He said stiffly. “It’s nice to hear that we’re on the same page for once. Now...you’re to remain on the palace grounds from here on out unless I inform you otherwise. Tomorrow, I expect you to join your sister and I for breakfast so we can discuss the consequences for your behavior.”

Hesitantly, Stiles raised his head. “What about—”

“I won’t fire Scott.” His dad promised. Stiles’ shoulders sagged with relief. “But if anything like this ever happens again, Scott’s title will be changed and you’ll get a new personal guard. A real one. As much as I loathe to hire a babysitter for my adult son, you need to learn responsibility. This is your final warning. Do you understand?”

Stiles almost didn’t respond, but managed to give a weak nod. “Yes, sir.”

Chris frowned. His son was being uncharacteristically serious and it had him worried. Surely Stiles was merely upset at being yelled at, but it felt like more. Like Stiles was going through something he didn’t want to tell his father. Chris sighed.

“I’m just trying to keep you safe, kid.” He promised. Stiles nodded, his hands twisting and fidgeting.

“Can...can I go?” He asked quietly. Chris nodded. Stiles returned the nod curtly, then turned and swam out of the room. 

Chris sank into his throne, running a hand through his hair. 

King Christopher considered himself to be a reasonable merman. He set certain rules and he expected those rules to be followed. In the past few years, his kingdom had flourished under his leadership. Likewise, his children seemed to be growing up more and more every day. 

He felt as though it was only yesterday that Allison had been playing in the palace gardens with Lydia, the two of them collecting shells and making flower crowns in the sand. Now Allison was a young woman who had collected no less than five marriage proposals in the past year. On her behalf, Chris had declined them all. Their kingdom was secure enough without a political alliance. He wanted his daughter to be able to marry for love—love Chris knew she had already found. 

The King would be a fool if he hadn’t noticed his Allison sneaking around with Scott. Chris did wish his daughter trusted him enough for them to have an honest conversation about it but he understood. Young love was enchanting and breath-takingly precious. Allison would tell him when she was ready. Either that, or Chris would gather the five of them—there was no doubt in his mind that Melissa had known long before he had—for a dinner as soon as he thought of a more entertaining way to reveal his knowledge than threatening the poor boy, which Scott didn’t truly deserve. Chris saw the way Scott looked at his daughter. Scott was one of the purest souls Chris had ever met.They would be beautiful together and he couldn’t think of a better merman for Allison. 

Which left Stiles.

Chris loved his two children more than life itself, but Stiles...Stiles was challenging in a way that Allison had never been. Stiles was impulsive, reckless and impatient. He was disorganized and free-spirited, his brain constantly operating at ten miles a minute. But Stiles was also undeniably good. He was brilliant; he was kind and caring and incredibly sweet. Chris still remembered how Stiles had been such an affectionate little kid, how he had wanted desperately to make friends with everyone he met. How Scott had been the only one to take Stiles up on his offer.

Stiles deserved to live his life the same as any other teenager. He deserved to be reckless and carefree and unrestrained. But it wasn’t possible. Stiles and Allison were eighteen years old now. In just three years, Stiles was going to be king. The same boy who had once punched Prince Jackson in the face for a few, thinly-veiled insults was going to be ruling the kingdom of Atlantica. 

_Stiles_. Gods. What was Chris going to do with him?

* * *

Scott and Stiles spent the following week sulking and separated. 

Stiles had gone straight to sleep after his dad’s lecture and had barely said a thing at breakfast before going back up to his room and locking himself in. Unfortunately, that had only lasted four days before he’d heard Allison and their dad talking about him next door in Allison’s room. They were worried sick. He was hurting them, which was the last thing Stiles wanted to do. He was punishing himself, not them. So Stiles framed his isolation as a temper tantrum and resigned himself to wandering the palace halls alone. 

Both he and Scott had been grounded indefinitely and—because neither of them did anything without the other—Melissa had punished Scott with “no Stiles”. The king had agreed, because Stiles’ grounding negated the usual safety concerns and both parents felt the separation would do them good. They were wrong and Stiles was miserable.

Stiles had come out of his room for the sake of Allison and his dad, but it wasn’t enough. They could tell he was hurting, and only Scott knew why. Scott who had been sworn to absolute secrecy but had started to very obviously avoid Stiles’ dad out of the sheer terror that he would slip up, which wasn’t suspicious at all. What really sucked was that Stiles’ dad had taken the lock off of his door and he’d been forced to look for a better, less accessible hiding place.

Now, Stiles was avoiding his family by hiding in bushes. Luckily, hardly anyone came over here. Stiles was free to cry in the back corner of the royal garden for as long as he wanted. It was his eighth time this week. Stiles didn’t know how long he’d been sitting in the gardens. It was possible he’d just sat down. Or maybe he’d been alone forever. There was no way of knowing. No one would come to look for him, anyway. It was after dinner, after curfew, and the water was calm and dark. 

It wasn’t just that his dad had yelled at him or separated him from Scott. Throwing a week-long tantrum over something like that when he was eighteen years old was pretty immature. Stiles’ real problem was being heartbroken over someone he’d barely known. When his dad had forbidden him to return to the surface, everything had sunk in all at once. It had settled on him like a haze of heartache, his new reality choking him like a vice. Stiles had seen enough humans to figure out they got scared of the water pretty easily. Derek’s shipwreck had been traumatic enough for Stiles, and Stiles was a merman. Derek had almost _died_.

Stiles hugged his tail tighter. He was going to be alone forever and he deserved it. In a single day, he’d infuriated his father, probably gotten his best friend in serious trouble, and lost the love of his life forever. Stiles sniffed miserably and hated himself for it. The future leader of Atlantica was crying in the middle of a flower patch. 

At his whine, a noise came from the corals bordering the garden vegetation. Forcing himself to stop, Stiles quieted, instantly tense. There was something else in the gardens with him. Something terrible, because it was probably the groundskeeper and Stiles absolutely didn’t need to be seen pouting like a guppy. Stiles swallowed the bad taste in his mouth, trying to shove down his crushed heart for the sake of whoever had just come into the garden. _Please be a fish. Please be a fish. Please be a fish._ Slowly, Stiles lifted his head up from his tail to look across the garden. 

It wasn’t a fish. 

It was an eel.

Poor little guy. The little eel was all alone. He was a deep, ugly blue with bright yellow eyes, but he looked defenseless and sad. Admittedly, eels could be deadly, but this one just looked so dismal and lonely. Through his tears, a small fraction of Stiles was coherent enough to know he was projecting but he couldn’t help it. Maybe the eel wanted a friend too. Stiles’ shattered heart went out to him.

Stiles gave it a tiny, hopeful wave.

The eel carefully swam closer to him, seemingly cautious. Stiles took a slow, careful breath as it drew nearer. He had to do this delicately or he’d ruin it and the little guy would get scared. Then Stiles would be alone again, which was _not_ an option. Shrinking into himself, Stiles tried to make himself look small and weak, hoping it would decrease his risk of being attacked and/or eaten—which, to be honest, didn’t really sound that bad right now. Lightly shaking his head, Stiles pushed the other thoughts back and inched closer to the eel. _Friend_.

“Hey, little guy.” Stiles reached out. “Why are you out here all by yourself, huh? Are you sad too, buddy?”

The eel slinked closer. Stiles’ tail fins twitched nervously. The part of his brain that knew how dangerous eels could be if you weren’t careful was the same part currently yelling at him for getting blindly attached to an animal that would abandon him in a heartbeat. Still, almost experimentally, the eel moved closer. Stiles waited patiently as it inched towards him, his hands fidgeting in his lap.

Abruptly, the eel appeared to split itself in half and there were two of them, swimming in perfect sync, gliding along beside each other—each the same ugly blue and each with a single glowing eye opposite their normal one. When he got over his surprise, Stiles was immediately bitter about the eel having someone when he didn’t. Which was ridiculous. It was an _eel_. Well, two eels.

The first one branched off, curling itself on the floor of the garden near Stiles’ tail fins. The other drifted in the water next to them, waiting. Stiles frowned. He wanted to pet them but he couldn’t tell if they were friendly or getting ready to eat him. At least if they ate him he’d be useful, but he couldn’t tell what breed they were and he could totally get electrocuted if he didn’t think things through. Stiles wished Lydia was here. Lydia would be able to tell. 

It was hard not to miss her. Lydia was amazing and beautiful and beyond wonderful. Not to mention she was an evil genius, which was the best kind of genius there was. He’d known her for practically his entire life but Lydia’s endless love for Jackson—an annoying neighboring royal who Stiles had privately taken to calling _Prince Hammerhead_ because of his huge ego and his weird stupid face—still baffled Stiles to no end. But Lydia had moved away to marry Prince Hammerhead, which had brought Stiles’ number of friends back down to two. Including his twin sister. Who _had_ to like him.

The eel near Stiles’ fins nudged his tail with its head, jolting Stiles out of his thoughts.

Stiles looked down and studied them intently, looking for signs of malicious intent. The one by his tail curled and swished absently in the sand near his fins. The eel closer to his eye level was almost the same, but had a handful of little black spots near its dorsal fin. So, obviously, their names were Sandy and Spots. Stiles nodded to himself, still watching the eels.

What they did next made Stiles wonder if eels had ears or maybe used something like echolocation. Together, their bodies curved as if they were cocking their heads, then they rose up and started to swim away. Stiles’s interested expression melted back into a frown. He shouldn’t have named them. Rookie mistake.

It was weird though. They paused a short distance away, like they were waiting. Like they wanted Stiles to follow them.

Hesitantly, Stiles pushed himself up from the floor of the garden and swam towards them. 

They swam away again. Stiles paused. They stopped. Stiles grinned. Finally, a worthy distraction. 

Stiles left the flower patch. The eels kept swimming and Stiles followed them over the corals blindly, eagerly. He was on an adventure towards maturity and responsibility. A good king listened to his subjects. Stiles should absolutely follow his new eel friends. It was the kingly thing to do.

The eels gained confidence, picking up their pace. Stiles kept following them, past the edge of the garden and out into the seaweed. As they went on, the water grew still and dense. It was somehow thicker here, a blanket of unfamiliar darkness. Stiles kept going. The vegetation grew thicker, the flowers faded into dead corals, the sand grew coarser and rockier. Stiles kept going.

The water felt bitterly sharp here, a prickling sensation pinching Stiles’ cold skin. If he didn’t know any better he would have said something was wrong with the ocean, as though it was trying to push him away and pull him further out at the same time.

When Sandy and Spots stopped in front of a large rock, Stiles had to squint at it while he waited for his eyes to adjust—he’d been following the eels by the glow of their eyes and it was much darker out here than he’d realized. When his eyes grew used to the light—or lack thereof—Stiles realized it wasn’t a rock at all. It was a large cave. Even better, this was probably that super weird cave he’d heard the servants telling each other stories about. 

When he’d first heard about it, Stiles had dragged Scott and Allison around looking for it for hours, but had ultimately failed when Allison had insisted he was crazy and Scott lost a good chunk of his enthusiasm to his growling stomach. Not to mention it had been around the time Scott and Allison had gotten it together enough to pull their heads out of the sand and start dating, which meant every sentence that came out of Scott’s stupid lovesick mouth was _I agree with Allison_ . It had also been the day Stiles had seen Derek for the first time, but it hurt too much to dwell on that so Stiles zeroed in all his focus on the cave. Ally was _so_ going to regret calling him crazy.

Sandy and Spots swam into the cave. Stiles trailed after them, excited.

Stiles got a lot less excited when the eels’ glowing eyes lit up the floor of the cave. Alarmed, Stiles shot away from the bottom of the cave.

It was covered in polyps, the screeching sea creatures straining up towards the ceiling as they reached for him. Stiles shuddered, unnerved. He hadn’t realized polyps could make noise and these ones seemed a little too _alive_. The creatures moaned, stretching and grasping and scratching, reaching for him with an intense desperation. Stiles shot up closer to the roof of the cave to avoid them, continuing forward to follow the eels. The eels didn’t seem to like the polyps either, but Stiles was too hyped up on adrenaline to be sure if he found the observation weird or scary. 

As they swam deeper, the entrance to the cave began to widen into a vast, empty cavern. At least, it sounded empty. It was inexplicably brighter here. Stiles found himself cringing in the odd lighting as he waited for his eyes to recover from the extreme darkness of the tunnel. 

When Stiles reopened his eyes, he regretted everything instantly. He regretted not paying more attention to his surroundings. He regretted being lonely and stupid and naming the stupid slimy eels. Most of all, he regretted not telling anyone he’d left the grounds or where he’d gone. No one would be able to find him. Stiles swallowed thickly, anger burning in his chest. He’d made a terrible mistake.

“Welcome to my humble abode, nephew.” The sea witch crooned.

Stiles glared daggers at the creature in front of him.

“Hi, Aunt Kate.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is fairly short compared to the others but I don’t want to give too much away. Hopefully Derek turned out okay, I haven’t written much for him. Enjoy!!

_Derek was floating._

_The water was dark and cold, light bursting and crashing around him as the force of the ocean dragged him further and further down. His skull was being hammered, the sheer pressure deafening in his ears as an aching chill invaded his body. Yet the freezing water forcing its way into his lungs did nothing to stop the fire burning in his chest. Derek needed the pain to stop. It was too much. Thankfully it was fading. Everything was fading. Derek closed his eyes._

_They stayed closed as his chest grew tighter, a crushing weight wrapping around him. But soon the weight changed, tightening still as he was dragged upwards. It was different now; a feeling of comfort overtaking the sensation of suffocating. Still, it was too much. He wanted desperately to fall back into his restless sleep, to let the water take him. The pain was getting to be too strong and it would be so, so easy to let go._

_Suddenly there was air and Derek was drifting in and out of consciousness. A rush of wind hit his face, water crashing around him for an eternity as his lungs strained to recover. They struggled to force out the water, his insides retching and roiling as something pulled him to shore. His skin scraped against dry sand as he stirred. Derek wanted to find the strength to open his eyes to face what had rescued him. To understand why they felt he had deserved to be saved when every one of his fallen crew members had led lives far more valuable and honorable than his own._

_Someone was keeping him here, he realized. Someone had pulled him from the dark, unforgiving waters with strong, kind hands and brought him to shore. The rough sand of the beach was gone, replaced by hands running over him, tracing patterns and writing sonnets on his skin with lithe, gentle fingers. Derek felt strength flow through him, his mind slowly returning to him as the waves were drowned out by a voice so enchanting Derek was sure he’d died._

_A strong, clear voice. A voice so beautiful it was inhuman. They were singing. Sweet and soft, honeyed and ethereal like liquid gold. It was pleading for him to stay, begging for him to be alive, singing to him a story of love and life. It was pained and desperate with a deep longing, like it truly wanted Derek to stay. Like it wanted him._

_Another voice called his name in the distance but it was nothing compared to the singing. They were an unwelcome disruption and they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered besides the voice._

_Derek opened his eyes. The face he saw was distant and hazy—blurred by shock and saltwater and head trauma—but it was just as stunning as the voice that echoed in Derek’s head. Dark hair fell into warm, kind eyes as brilliant as the sea itself. Derek had never seen anyone so breathtaking; he was staring at the sun but discovering a myriad of starry constellations. He would never look away from them for the rest of his life._

_When his vision cleared his rescuer was gone. Derek was left alone, staring at the dark, empty sky._

_Sounds of running and shouting and skidding rocks pushed away the echoing silence. Someone else was here now. Someone pushing against his chest to force the water out of his lungs. Different, familiar hands helping him stand. Isaac. Derek didn’t want Isaac. He didn’t need Isaac to help him sit up or to help him stand, he needed his rescuer._

_Dazed, Derek desperately searched the beach surrounding them as Isaac struggled to lead him away. It was horribly empty. There was no one else on the beach but them. Derek looked out at the water, lost and alone._

_He felt it before he saw it._

_A rush of color and want enveloped him as his eyes searched the water, landing on a glint out past the tides. Someone disappeared into the waves with a flash of gold and green, sparkling like the tail fins of a fish. Someone who had the most alluring voice he’d ever heard. His rescuer._

_Derek would go to the ends of the earth to find them._

_Or, it would seem, to the end of the ocean._

* * *

Derek was in love and no one believed him.

“For the last time, Derek, they’re not real!”

Isaac, Derek’s newly appointed naval admiral and long-time most trusted advisor, was bitching at him. Well, he was loudly disrespecting and invalidating Derek in Derek’s general direction. Seemed like bitching to him.

“I know what I saw.” Derek said firmly. “I also know what I heard, Isaac, and I know what I _felt_ . I _promise_ you he was real. And yes, I’ve never seen him before and I don’t know who he was, but he definitely existed and he saved my life! How can you not want to know who he is?”

In the week that had passed since the loss of _The Celestial_ , Derek had been slowly losing his mind. His memories were haunting him, both the old and the new. Every night, Derek had closed his eyes and seen nothing but the burning wreckage of his ship. He smelled charred flesh and blazing timber, felt the sting of wind and rain and saltwater as he heard the terrified screams of his crew mix with voices he thought he’d forgotten. 

But sometimes the dreams were wonderful. Sometimes Derek saw deep, handsome eyes and glittering green scales. He felt the warmth of sunlight but remembered seeing stars. And always, always he heard their voice. It was otherworldly, desperate with longing yet rich with love and passion. Derek would give his entire kingdom to hear it again and he would do it gladly.

Dealing with his skeptical advisor was another dilemma entirely.

Derek sat on the steps at the foot of his throne while Isaac paced in front of him. Isaac had been watching him for days, constantly high strung while he waded through the aftermath Derek’s increasingly frequent daydreams and nightmares. Isaac was worn out, thoroughly confused, and was not at all happy that Derek was refusing to return to the infirmary.

“That’s not how shipwrecks work!” Isaac protested. “Drowning people—no matter how important those drowning people are—do not get rescued by weird fish people with magical voice abilities. I’m telling you—you have a concussion. I am _begging_ you—please go see Erica. You’re the King, Derek. We can’t have people thinking you’re crazy.”

“I’m not crazy.” Derek asserted. “I’m also not King yet and I _don’t_ need to go see Erica. I’m telling you, I don’t need a medical examination. I’m fine.”

“A single examination isn’t enough to keep watch of a _concussion_ . You were knocked out by burning wreckage that _fell on you_ . It’s a miracle you’re still alive. I know you told Erica the burns are starting to heal, but a head injury?” Isaac exclaimed. “You can’t afford to—” 

“I don’t have a head injury.” Derek snapped. “I’m not crazy.” Isaac ran a hand over his face, then sighed.

“You went through a traumatic experience and I care about your well being. Why is that so hard for you to believe? You’re my best...I am your advisor now, Derek. You can’t tell people these things. You need to take care of yourself, you need to re-evaluate what happened with a clear head and you need to go see Erica. _Please_.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrowed, his displeasure evident. Isaac pursed his lips. Derek was too stubborn for his own good.

“Please.” He repeated. “I know you’re _fine_ , but it will give me peace of mind. Do it for me.”

Derek hesitated, then gave a short nod. Isaac sighed lightly, well used to Derek’s emotional shortcomings. Cranky Derek had a narrow vocabulary.

“Thank you. And you know, if it’s any consolation, you’re never allowed on a ship ever again.” He offered, trying to lighten the mood. Derek’s expression soured.

“Because I spent the last eight years absolutely begging to be set adrift on the unforgiving sea.” He snapped. Isaac sobered.

“Your coronation last year went well, Derek. The skies were gorgeously clear, you were completely safe, we did countless perimeter checks, and we had no reason to think anything would happen to you this year. Unfortunately, it seems I need to remind you that you run a kingdom whose chief dealings involve naval forces. You can’t avoid being on ships for the rest of your life. It’s just not possible.”

Derek felt something cold curl in his chest. “You just told me I was banned.”

“For a while, surely.” Isaac told him. “Boyd can probably send a proxy for a few months if you want, but you can’t hide on land forever. It’s not...you can’t. I’m sorry. I know you never wanted to go out in the first place and I know we lost some good men in the wreckage of _The Celestial_ , but it was a _storm_. Of course, if you’re telling me you can control the weather, we have another issue. Your ever-present, soul-crushing, personal guilt is something I’m used to, but if this is some sort of Arendelle situation, we need to lock that shit down.”

Despite himself, Derek had to hold back a short laugh. Isaac offered him a sad smile.

“You can’t be afraid of the water forever.”

After a moment, Derek gave a small, resigned nod. Isaac pursed his lips. 

“Look, I know what you...I can never completely understand what you went through. No one can. Though I can promise you with absolute certainty that it was not your fault. Now, I have spent years with you trying to help you make peace with your loss and your survivors guilt, but you have to understand that you are a king. Or rather, you will be as soon as you marry. Your kingdom is relying on you to provide them with some sort of stability. You can’t do that unless you get over yourself. Disasters like that aren’t caused by any one person and I have no doubt in my mind that you would never have done anything to hurt your family. You know it wasn’t your fault, Derek. Some part of you has to know that.”

“I do.” Derek lied. “I know.”

Isaac considered his response, then sat down on the steps next to him. Derek looked over. Isaac’s face was full of concern and caring. Derek turned away again, unable to look him in the eye. Isaac wouldn’t look at him like that if he knew what Derek had done. Isaac reached over and squeezed his friend's shoulder. Derek stiffened, but looked back over.

“No one is happier to see you in love than I am.” Isaac promised. “And more than anything, I want them to be real. I want you to find what you’re looking for. But if this person truly does exist, then what do you expect to come of it? How will you find them? You don’t know them at all—you don’t know what they’re really like or what they’re feeling. Derek, you’ve been alone for a long time. I don’t want you to get hurt chasing after someone who doesn’t have your best interests in mind. If you honestly believe that they exist and that they share your feelings, then I’ll help you look for them. But you can’t hold on to this forever. I truly want you to find someone you feel a connection with, but your kingdom needs you. I know how badly you want this, I know how much sleep you’re losing over them, but you don’t have a lot of time. Promise me you’ve thought this through.”

He had. Derek had never felt so sure of anything in his life. The voice had been a sign from the sea itself, calling out to him with such a deep desire that Derek could still feel it pulling at him even now. It was for him and only him, it must have been. The face of his rescuer was growing into a distant memory—one that had initially been hazy at best—but the voice was one Derek would never let go of. In his heart, he knew he absolutely didn’t deserve to find anything like that after what he’d done. What he’d ruined. Still, the ocean had caused him so much pain and anger but for once it had finally decided to reward him for surviving, to offer him a reason worth living when everyone he loved had been taken from him. He had to find them. Derek would rather die than give them up. 

“I have.” Derek swore. “I’ve thought it through. I’ll find him.”

Isaac nodded. Derek relaxed against the stairs, feeling the edge of the step press into his spine as he looked out the arched windows in the throne room, staring out at the sea. It was quiet for a moment. Almost peaceful.

“Why don’t you get some rest?” Isaac suggested, jerking Derek out of his thoughts. “When you get up, maybe try taking a walk around the gardens. Try and think clearly. Don’t slip back into old patterns. It doesn’t have to be the gardens, either. Just make sure you come out of your room every once in a while, alright?”

Derek didn’t answer. Isaac waited. Then Derek nodded and got up, heading towards the grand staircase. Isaac stood, following Derek.

“Hey,” Isaac reached out. Derek stopped, letting Isaac pull him into a hug. When Isaac pulled back he looked a little less troubled—the uncertainty in his eyes had faded. He looked at Derek intently, then sighed. “Promise me you’ll try to be okay.”

“I’m not crazy.” Derek said quietly. It was more to himself than to Isaac.

Isaac sighed. “No, Derek. You’re not. But you do need rest. And I know you, I do. I know you forget to care of yourself but I need you to try. You still have me and Erica and Boyd and all of us care about you. I promise. And you deserve to take a few days off, you know? Find a new book in the library, take a walk on the beach, just...just find...you can’t heal physically if you don’t let yourself heal mentally.”

“I know.”

Isaac sighed, but nodded and walked off, branching towards the entrance hall. Derek stayed behind. He stood at the foot of the stairs as Isaac walked away, then turned to look out the window. Now that their conversation had ended he could hear the faint sound of the waves crashing on the beach. The noise of the ocean was far more comforting to him now. It made him remember what he wanted. What he was searching for.

Derek wasn’t crazy.

His Mystery Singer was out there.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ever try to write something and you have the entire beginning and the entire end but it's super hard to write the middle? That's what's happening here.

_ “Welcome to my humble abode, nephew.” The sea witch crooned. Stiles glared daggers at the creature in front of him. _

_ “Hi, Aunt Kate.” _

“I was hoping for a little more enthusiasm.” Kate sighed. “Haven’t you missed me?”

“Now that you mention it?” Stiles cocked an eyebrow. “No. Goodbye.”

Stiles turned to leave, only to be jerked to a stop when one of Kate’s tentacles snapped out and grabbed his arm. Stiles tensed, but gave in and let her pull him back. Kate might be a bit of a wild card, but he didn’t really think she would hurt  _ him _ . Surely if he heard her out, she would let him go…..then he would be free to go home and tell his dad all about how Kate was luring teenagers to her cave with trained eels. 

“I just want to talk, sweetie.” She said, loosening her grip. “There’s no need to swim off so quickly. Am I really so hard to be around?” 

“Yes. Let me guess, you wanted some family time so you sent your creepy pets to lure me out to your evil lair?” He snarked. Kate pouted. Her tentacles pulled away, curling back towards her body. Stiles did his best not to shiver at the sight—the idea of having something so unsettling take the place of his tail made his fins scrunch and twist in the sand. 

“Stiles, you shouldn’t use such negative language.” Kate scolded. “Not when we’re family. I haven’t done anything wrong—missing my favorite nephew isn’t a crime.”

_ No, but murder is. _ Stiles gritted his teeth. And favorite? Stiles had never been her favorite. Kate had always had a clear preference between Stiles and Allison and it hadn’t been Stiles, one of the many factors that made this interaction super weird. Little Allison had worshipped the sand Kate swam over, while Stiles had always sensed something was  _ off  _ about her and had never managed to get over it. Evidently his survival instincts were a lot better than Ally’s—the sooner he got out of here, the better. 

Kate either missed his narrowed eyes or simply didn’t care. Keeping her eyes on Stiles, she reached out to one of the eels, beckoning it closer. It swam over to her slowly, reluctant. Kate gave it an odd, pleased smile as it obeyed her silent command, like it had done something funny.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you, Ethan?” She scratched its head. It jerked away at her touch and swam back over to its twin, retreating to safety. Kate’s brow furrowed, perhaps deciding if killing it would be worth the trouble. Privately, Stiles wondered what the benefit was of having pets that hated you but for once he kept his mouth shut. Nevertheless, Kate recovered from her eels’ dismissal and turned her attention back to Stiles.

“So...what have you been up to?” She smiled at him. Stiles forced himself not to grimace.

“That’s a pretty casual conversation starter considering the way you lured me in here.” He said.

“I told you the truth. I just want to talk.” Kate said simply. “I heard about your little problem and I want to help you. That’s all.”

Stiles swallowed thickly. She wasn’t talking about...no. No, she couldn’t be. “Um, what problem?”

“Unrequited love.” Kate simpered. 

Stiles’ stomach lurched, his throat going dry as he forced himself not to tense up. He was a  _ teenager _ , for Triton’s sake. Hopeless crushes were a pretty safe bet at this age, that didn’t mean she knew about Derek.  _ No one _ knew about Derek. He hadn’t mentioned Derek to anyone besides Scott—Scott who wouldn’t know where to begin to contact Kate, much less have any untoward notions of feeding her vulnerable information. 

Stiles bit the inside of his cheek, forcing himself to think before he spoke. He watched silently as Kate’s eels slinked around her makeshift throne, barely holding back a shudder. The eels had too much awareness in their eyes. Stiles felt like he was being sized up. Finally—

“I’ve got lots of issues, Aunt Kate, but some stupid crush isn’t one of them.” He deflected. “You might want to check your facts. Who are you even talking about? Lydia? I’ve been over her for years.”

“Of course not, silly.” Kate answered. “I’m talking about the Prince. What was it again? Eric?”

_ No _ . Stiles flinched, a small outward reaction compared to the roiling waves crashing inside his chest. But small as it was, it was enough. Kate smiled sweetly.

“Oh, he is quite a...a catch. I’m sure you and Prince Eric will be perfect together!”

“...thank you.” Stiles mumbled, deliberately not bothering to correct her. It was better that she had gotten it wrong. Stiles knew the power of names better than anyone. Kate wasn’t getting Derek’s. 

“You’re welcome, honey.” Kate smiled. It was almost kind. It made Stiles want to remember who his Aunt had been before her exile. On the other hand, Stiles’ rational side was comparing Kate to his old memories and pointing out that his Aunt’s new smile had far too many teeth. That there was a horrible, horrible reason Kate had tentacles instead of a tail.

Stiles watched the tentacles curling and crawling, eerily beastly and undisciplined. Kate had been beautiful once, her gorgeous voice constantly chiming throughout the palace halls, instantly mesmerizing everyone who met her. In the months that had followed the announcement of her exile, all Stiles could think about was how—if he’d listened to his instincts, if he’d figured it out in time—maybe he could’ve been able to stop it. But there was no helping her now. Kate wasn’t his Aunt anymore. She was something far more terrible—something beyond the laws of nature.

Kate had used witchcraft to become a siren.

Sirens were wicked villainous creatures, their voices honeyed with thick spellwork designed to lure sailors to their deaths. Born of merfolk who had lost themselves in witchcraft, sirens had always seemed to be nothing more than superstition—enchanters who let themselves be overtaken by their deepest, cruelest desires. No reasonable merman had ever seen one and lived to tell the tale. Though only a small number of incidents had manifested over the past few centuries, sirens notoriously caused an atrocious amount of deaths and brought about countless shipwrecks. In all the stories Stiles had heard growing up—and everything he had read since—they were pure evil and terrifyingly eerie. 

Stiles had never had the displeasure of meeting another siren—siren songs were one of the highest offenses a merfolk could commit, and with good reason. It was cruel, vicious, bitter magic that forced the listener to obey the sirens every word, no matter how much they fought against it or how much they wanted to stop.

Siren magic was the ultimate crime against consent. And Kate had used her magic to hunt humans.

“It really is a shame, though.” Kate simpered, pulling Stiles away from his spiraling thoughts with a low hum. 

“What?” Stiles managed, his voice quiet and small. 

“To be in love with a human.” Kate pushed. “And a human prince at that! Tell me, honey. What does Daddy think? Does he know his little boy is in love?”

Stiles didn’t look at her. There was no answer that could save him. Kate sighed, amused.

“No? Well, no matter. My brother doesn’t need to know everything. So...do you miss him?” Kate asked softly.

Despite himself, Stiles felt his chest ache at her words, longing twisting him into knots. Derek was something Stiles had been fighting not to think about for days now.  He’d barely gotten a chance to talk to his prince before he’d been forced away and he missed Derek desperately. But it was hopeless. Humans were easily scared, and after something like that it would surely be quite a while before Derek gained the courage to venture out to sea again. If he ever did. Stiles had a sickening feeling he’d lost his chance forever.

“Do you miss him, Stiles?” Kate’s voice was soft and sweet. Stiles’ heart sank.

“Yes.” 

He didn’t want to confide in Aunt Kate. He wished there was someone else trying to be there for him—anyone else—but Stiles had felt alone for so long and he  _ needed _ to talk to someone about Derek. He’d let his heart get broken by someone who didn’t even know he existed yet it hurt more than anything he’d ever experienced. It was disgustingly unfair.

Kate’s tentacles stroked his arms, attempting to comfort him. Stiles shivered.

“Oh, honey.” She crooned. “I bet you wish you could’ve spent every day of your life with him.”

Stiles stared down at the floor of the cave, desperately trying to think about something else. Something other than how Derek had looked at him when he’d finally opened his eyes on that beach. LIke he was something special, something important. Like he was everything. Eyes like that would never look at Stiles again.

“Is that what you want, Stiles?”

Stiles’ shoulders slumped in defeat.  _ Derek _ .

“Well...your wish is my command, nephew.”

It didn’t sink in at first. Then, when Stiles pulled himself out of his heartache enough to comprehend her words, he looked up. Kate was smiling at him, her tentacles curling and twisting around her throne. The eels swam near her feet, occasionally snapping at Stiles as they glared at him. His brows furrowed, processing.

“My...what do you mean?” He asked warily.

“I can give you what you want, Stiles.” Kate said easily. “You want your human prince, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I’m pretty sure he’s not super into boats right now. After the whole, you know, gigantic storm slash almost dying at sea thing?” Stiles cleared his throat sharply and made a vague, swirling gesture with his hands.

“So if he can’t come to you, why don’t you go to him?”

Stiles’ frown deepened. “What do you mean?”

“When you wished you could be with him...did you ever wish that you were both human? That you could live on land with your prince and walk together towards your happy ending?”

Stiles didn’t want to answer. But he had—desperately, in fact. When Stiles had first seen Derek, he’d spent the following months camped out in the palace library sifting through centuries of research, ardently searching for a way they could truly be together. After all, Stiles couldn’t have been the first merman to chase after a human—it was illegal now, but surely it hadn’t been outlawed since the beginning of time. Yet he’d poured months of research into a pit. If there had ever been a book that could help him, it was no longer in the royal library. Stiles had arrived at dead ends with every turn. Whatever Kate had in mind must be so backwards and terrible it had been eradicated from Atlantean records. That is, if she wasn’t just toying with him.

“One little answer, sweetie. Yes or no?”

Something inside of Stiles was tugging at him, desperately willing him to sprint out of his Aunt’s cave and never come back, to go home where it was safe and to start talking to his dad and his sister again. But everything hurt so much. Talking with someone who thought so little of him was helping, in a way. Stiles wasn’t expecting her to sugarcoat. 

“Yes.” He admitted. “But I can’t...I was being unrealistic. That’s not something I can do. It’s not something anyone can do.”

“Not you alone, no.” Kate said gently. “But it’s not stupid, honey. Not at all. I can help you, Stiles. You’re right, it’s not something just anyone can do. But I think you’ll find that I, fortunately, know a little magic.”

_ Magic _ . Stiles felt his stomach twist at the thought of using  _ magic _ to get what he wanted. He couldn’t. There would be no coming back from that. Magic always came with a price. But his insides twisted even tighter at the thought of never being able to see Derek again. Derek was all that Stiles had ever wanted and more. Derek was everything. Stiles didn’t have a choice.

“How?”

Kate’s smile grew, her eyes hard and focused but her posture relaxed, at ease. Her tentacles curled and uncurled around her throne. 

“A gift.” She said. “I’m sure a smart little boy like you has it all figured out. The only way to get what you want is to become a human yourself.”

“You...I could...no.” Stiles shook his head. “No, you can’t do that.”

“Oh, honey, of course I can.” She said pleasantly. “That’s what family is for. Why, I’d imagine you have no one else to turn to with this but me? Who am I to judge?”

Stiles gave a long, pointed look at her cursed form—part of her punishment for executing persecution by witchcraft. Kate gave a sweet laugh.

“You don’t think I would look like this if I didn’t want to? I can look however I choose. And so can you. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories. They weren’t kidding when they called me...well, I prefer the term sorceress. Much less negative.”

Stiles watched her warily. “What are you offering?”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Kate sighed, pleased. “Now. Here’s the deal. I can make you a potion that will let you walk on land. For three days, to be exact. Right up until that third sunset—just enough time for your prince to fall in love with you. And if he falls for you? You’ll get to stay on land with him forever. You can live out a long, human life with your prince.”

“That’s not a lot of time to fall in love with someone.” Stiles managed. 

“But you’re already in love. And you’ve already met. I’m sure your prince just needs a little push in the right direction.”

“You...really?” Stiles said softly. Kate smiled. 

“I’m sure of it.” She promised. “If he gives you a kiss of true love before the sun sets on the third day, you’ll remain human...permanently.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Stiles was almost afraid to know her answer.

“Well....I think in that case, I’d have you stay here with me.” She said carefully. “You’d turn back into a merman, of course, and...you’d belong to me. Do we have a deal?”

Kate’s eels were baring their teeth at Stiles, producing frantic clicking noises as they circled him, snapping forward and catching at his fins with their teeth. Stiles shifted back and away from them, unsettled. Kate’s brow furrowed with annoyance and she made a small gesture with her hand, calling the eels back to her throne. They returned to her and settled in the sand, twitching and curling. 

Stiles was struggling to come up with a clear, firm answer. He knew by now that he’d hesitated too long and Kate was probably still impatient, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew what he’d be giving up. He’d never see his father again, or Allison or Scott or Lydia. But he would have Derek. Which would be more than enough if he knew Derek loved him back, but thought of sacrificing everything he knew only to be left stranded in the face of rejection...the thought of  _ belonging  _ to Kate if he failed, whatever unknown horrors that entailed. 

“Take your time. Life’s full of tough choices, isn’t it?”

Stiles swallowed thickly.  _ Derek _ . 

“Just, one little thing.” Kate added. Stiles waited. “We haven’t discussed the subject of payment. I need something I gave to your sister. A necklace with a gold charm. Just a little trinket. I’m sure she won’t miss it.”

“What for?”

“Something to remember our family by. I miss everyone so much, especially your sister. That necklace was something shared between the two of us. It has sentimental value. Though of course, there’s also the matter of your voice.”

“My voice?” Stiles choked out. Kate gave a pleasant, simple shrug.

“You’ll have to give that up. Didn’t you know? This is real magic, Stiles. You can’t get something for nothing.” She said. Stiles frowned.

“But how will he know it’s me if I can’t talk to him?” He managed. It was a fair question, after all. According to his father, he’d learned how to talk and hadn’t stopped for breath once in the past eighteen years. For Stiles, his voice was what made him alive—taking that away would be taking virtually his entire personality. 

“True love finds a way.” Kate promised. “You deserve to be happy, Stiles. No matter who it’s with. I’m offering you a lifetime of happiness, I don’t think I’m asking for much in return. It’s not as though you’d be able to use it, anyhow.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles’ frown deepened.

“Stiles, the voice of a mercreature is their most vital tool for survival. There’s a reason mermaids and sailors have such a long, violent history. We have to have a way to protect ourselves. So many of the humans up on the surface just don’t understand us, and humans are terribly afraid of what they don’t understand. Don’t you know what you would sound like? If you were to use your voice as a human, not only would you scare away your prince, you would never be able to return as a merman again. Merpeople aren’t meant to speak above the waves, Stiles. My price is the necklace. Your voice is the price for the magic itself. All magic comes with a price.”

Leave it to Kate to be as vague and theatrical as she possibly could. 

Stiles pursed his lips. He knew how seriously stupid someone had to be to even consider something like this. The dangers involved, the complete abandonment of his culture, the....the excitement of discovering a new world with Prince Derek at his side.

“You know what, sweetheart?” Kate’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts. “Why don’t you go home? Think it over. I’ll give you until tomorrow at midnight to decide. I think that’s more than fair. Show up tomorrow with the necklace and we’ll talk. Promise?”

Stiles’ chest tightened. But he nodded. “Promise.”

Kate smiled at him. “Perfect.” She sighed. “You’ll be able to find your way back here on your own, won’t you? Or should I send out my little pets to give you a guiding fin?”

“No.” Stiles said quickly. “No, it’s...I can do it.”

“Wonderful.” Her eyes were focused and calculating. “I’ll see you tomorrow, nephew. I’m very much looking forward to your visit. Feel free to come along as soon as you decide. I want to support you in any way I can.”

“I...yeah. Tomorrow. I’ll see you then.” Stiles managed.

“Goodbye, Stiles.”

Stiles gave another nod, then carefully backed himself out of the wider part of the cavern, his eyes never leaving Kate and her eels. When his back hit the hard stone of the cavern wall, he gave a final glance before turning and swimming down the tunnel, back out of the cave.

It was much darker when Stiles emerged out into the open ocean again. He’d been gone longer than he’d realized. His dad was going to harpoon him for going out—there was no way he hadn’t noticed Stiles was missing. Stiles was going to have to grovel to be allowed in the  _ courtyard _ , there was no way he’d be able to get back over here tomorrow.

Tomorrow. 

He had until midnight tomorrow. 

And Stiles had no idea what he was going to do.


End file.
